


Of Angels and Demons and Timelords

by Mageless



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19100809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mageless/pseuds/Mageless
Summary: What if Aziraphale and Crowley HAD run away? What if out of the billions of trillions of planets and stars they’d chosen an interesting little place called Gallifrey, where they couldn’t seem to understand why nobody seemed to be very happy with Crowley.





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale hadn’t really meant to run away with Crowley, really. It had all just sort of happened. He liked to think it was the tempter soul beneath that snakeskin of his, twisting the angel to his will even now. Secretly, though, Crowley didn’t really need to tempt much of anything: He just needed to offer, to suggest, and after a playful little display of false loyalty to the folks upstairs Aziraphale would cave in like a badly made cake.

There had been lots of planets, on offer. Some were uninhabited, some were peaceful. The constructs of his and Crowley’s bodies, whilst not being able to endure a decapitation, or a vicious explosion by a bomber plane that Aziraphale thought he probably shouldn’t have been around for in the first place if he was just a little less trusting, the angel and demon could do more than enough miracles to keep them alive in the harsh expanses of space without disincorporating. So now they just had to choose.

The moon, and the solar system by extension had felt a little too close for comfort, so Crowley had printed out little fact files that were absolutely brilliant and they lay on the floor of the bookshop as they wafted around them, like an explosion of planets in the back room. Logically they should have gone with a quiet, uninhabited little planet no would find, but Crowley had managed to do something he’d never managed to do before.

He’d managed to get Aziraphale to drink Vodka.

It’d started out as usual, the tempter tempting, the angel refusing with a shocked and scandaled “absolutely not, Crowley!” And of course the demon couldn’t let things go. He’d tried different methods of persuasion all night, including just elongating one long “pleeeeeeeeeeaseeeeeee?” For over two hours, which had almost brought the tired angel to his knees. Eventually Crowley had hit the mark, the following morning.

“You’re never going to get to try them again, you know angel. All those things you’ve never tried on earth, they aren’t going to be on those planets up there.”

“Well... I could miracle them up.”

“Yes, but they wouldn’t be the same.”

Aziraphale was silent. He had long since considered himself a connoisseur of food on earth, having tried dishes and drinks that nobody alive and NOT immortal had ever even seen or heard of. The idea of there being more, delicacies that even he couldn’t try, seemed inherently wrong to him. He had this shuddering moment when he realised all of earth was going to be gone, soon, and there would be no more lunches and snacks and restaurants at all, just rubble and dust, lorded over by militant angels or despicable demons that didn’t had such familiar and reassuring eyes. Crowley watched his thoughts silently, letting him come to his decision.

“Okay.” Aziraphale whispered, “but I’m putting a few extra things to try, on the list. I never have had cake pops.” He said those last words with as much whimsy as he could muster, and Crowley smiled. Aziraphale had the distinct feeling that this would be a very, very bad idea.

And so it had begun, the grandest and most peculiar feast at the start of the end of the world. The angel had brought about every food he had not yet attempted to eat, and the demon had acquired every alcohol he had not yet managed to get the angel to drink. Aziraphale had never done shots before, but now they were lined up in rows. He tried to taste them, at first, but that had been a regret and at some point he just started knocking them back as fast as possible to get them over with, and whilst there had been stronger and worse drinks on the table and floor in front of him, nothing had hit him so peculiarly as the vodka. It had made him more than a little... mischievous. Mischievous enough to match a demon of hell who had decided to go out with a bang as they left the bookshop for one last ‘night on the town’ or planet, anyway. They popped in on old friends, reminisced over a few hundred lifetimes of memories, Aziraphale decided to pop over to Rome to freak the heaven out the pope by summoning out his wings and telling him, as seriously as his drunk self could muster (which wasn’t very) that God thought he was doing ever such a good job, if he could just be a little nicer to the gays. They’d flown through the skies on their wings without shrinking themselves down to the size of an atom, and it’d been wonderful. When they got back to the bookshop Crowley took what he believed was a much deserved nap, and Aziraphale span the pieces of paper through the air with childish delight, refusing to sober up. There were so many! And they were all so different and brilliant and weird. Eventually he’d found a planet he’d liked, though process of completely illogical elimination (too green, too many letter r’s in the name), picking it out of the chaos and then ordering the rest onto a neat stack on his desk, sorted in no particular order at all. He’d miss his bookshop, he thought. He liked his books very much, and he wasn’t particularly open to donating them somewhere where they might get touched, and read, and damaged by stupid little people who didn’t know any better. He didn’t want them to get burned, or bombed, either, but shrinking them all down and carrying the bookshop in his pocket was a terribly big miracle to sustain, and the other angels might notice. He decided to do it anyway, though, just before they left. Maybe when they’d settled down with the nice people on the planet he’d chosen he could release the shrinkage and open up a bookshop there. Nobody would never buy books in a language they couldn’t read, not unless they were really pretentious. It’d be brilliant.

Crowley woke up to see a slightly more sober angel, clutching his head with agony, and it brought a smile to his lips. Aziraphale didn’t even have the concentration to miracle his headache away, so he threw simpering looks at Crowley in order to get the demon to do it for him. The snake in question simply threw his head to the side and looked at that one piece of paper, floating around the shop like a magical post-it note.

“Gallifrey.” He muttered, trying to remember something about the place and failing miserably. The text below the planet’s picture didn’t say much, something about it being in some sort of time lock (easy to bypass for them, but good for hiding in) and having wonderful technology. He supposed it wasn’t a bad choice, and it seemed pleasant enough. It was even inhabited, which could be nice. A new race of people to tempt. Crowley dispelled his angel’s headache and dragged him to his feet from the floor where he lay, only for him to fall over again, but once Aziraphale got his balance back he pulled himself up alone with a glare.

“That was horrible, Crowley! I’ve not felt that badly since the humans invented alcohol in the first place!”

“Yes... the huuuumans....”

Aziraphale decided to ignore that comment and glanced at the piece of paper in the air.

“Gallifrey? So is that where you’ve chosen to go, Crowley? I hope it’s nice.”

“Angel...?”

“Yes, foul fiend?”

“How much do you remember of last night?”

“Well I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear, I remember e-... oh. Oh dear. I... I don’t suppose I didn’t do anything too bad?” The angel floundered.

“You spoke to the pope, very obviously drunk, showed him your wings and flew away.” Now the angel was miserable.

“Oh, God Crowley! She’ll be so mad! My superiors will be livid! Though... though I suppose that doesn’t matter, now.”

“Not really.”

Aziraphale paused.

“My head is pounding.” This one drew Crowley’s ire.

“That’s because...” he began, his voice beginning low and gentle but quickly rising to be angry and terse, but also very amused. “YOU ANSWERED EVERY SINGLE PRAYER ON THE PLANET! FOR A WHOLE HOUR!!!” Crowley wouldn’t admit it, but most of his anger was out of worry for his angel, not that he’d ever say so. Answering that many prayers long distance could burn you out, even if it was funny. At least Aziraphale had the good grace to look sheepish.

“Ah... well then I suppose we should better go.”

“Idiotic angels first” Crowley grumbled

“Not before the foul demon.”

Sigh “on three then. 1..2..”

A few people that day remarked upon the sudden disappearance of the worlds most unprofitable bookshop, as the owner seemed most sincere in his efforts not to sell a single tome, and a few others remarked on the quite beautiful sight of two birds in the air, one pitch black and the other shining white, flying around each other as if in dance before disappearing with a blink of the eye, never to be seen on earth, or at least the earth at this time, again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of which a certain time lord ends up having to stop the apocalypse

The Doctor had dealt with gods before. Gods, demons, angels, devils, demigods, semigods and on and on and on. They weren’t new, or a shock, they just were what they were. Another powerful species whose power just worked a little differently to his own. 

He knew, of the demon and the angel on earth, of course. Not personally, as he’d never met them, didn’t even know what they looked like, but the reputation of “the demon who didn’t fall so much as saunter vaguely downwards” and the angel who owned a bookshop that didn’t sell books were spread far and wide, to the right people. Not that said angel or demon knew any of said people, but they knew of them and that was enough intel for the doctor, who had never really been a fan of ‘intel’. It always made him feel like he was pushing the line, between ‘accidentally’ on purpose saving the world and actively helping it out and looking out for it. He was, looking out for it, but it wouldn’t do well for other people to know that.

He hadn’t, however, known about the antichrist. The doctor was on to his 11th -but since the didn’t very much like the one before the previous one he very much pretended for all intents and purposes it was his 10th- incarnation, now, he’d lived for just over a thousand years and he liked to think he knew a lot. A red eyed son of Satan with the ability to warp reality on his favourite planet was one hell of a thing to miss. Especially one that was about to bring about the end of everything. 

“It just doesn’t make sense!” He shouted to his companion, running around the T.A.R.D.I.S., anxiously flipping levers and pushing buttons and generally making a mess of things. 

“The world’s not scheduled to end this week! It’s not even supposed to come to an end this century!” His hands pulled a screen in front of him and he grimaced. “That’d explain it.” He then realised that his companions didn’t tend to read Gallifreyan. “There’s been a timeline shift. No clue how, but whoever was supposed to save earth today has gone off to do something else.” The doctor brushed imaginary dust off of his hands with a smile, but as he turned away from the console his lighthearted grin fell away into a cold emptiness. The T.A.R.D.I.S. was empty, at least it probably felt empty. He did. 

“Well,” he muttered. “It’s probably time to save the world.” It was a lot less fun without someone to save it with. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos 😊 this is my first fanfic, and if anyone has some constructive criticism I’d appreciate the help.

The nice thing about stopping the apocalypse is that it did seem, in a way, to be a sort of universal plan. Not a plan that everybody knew about, per se, but instead a plan that seemed to have been laid by fate or the universe itself (or more controversially: Agnes Nutter, witch). Now when laying a good plan, the key is not to lay your eggs in one basket, no matter how mystically secure, so even though the angel of the eastern gate and the demon who did not fall so much as saunter vaguely downwards were not present for their roles in stopping the end of the world, the antichrist was still a -relatively- normal, loving boy, who had decided that maybe being a good friend and leader of the Them was much better than being a good ruler of the legions of hell. Anathema had managed to get to her nice little cottage quite well, too, and she hasn’t needed to get hit by a car to do it. Newt had been a trickier series of events to confluence, but Shadwell wasn’t going to turn down an eager witch hunter paying for a trip out of his own pocket. To be damned honest (and believe it not, it was actually very easy to be both honest AND damned) the exalted Crowley and Aziraphale, snake of the garden and defender of the bookshop, were a little... superfluous. Truthfully, the doctor didn’t have very much to do, except pop up in front of Satan to teach his son a lesson about crappy fathers, which he was actually pretty sure the boy already knew, judging by the smile on his face, and that assured confidence that made the doctor jump in his skin. Adam Young gave him goose flesh, probably because that great psychic wave that stopped people from noticing how peculiar he was didn't really work  on a similarly psychic and peculiar time-lord, who was thinking that maybe he should stay on earth for a couple of years, just to make sure things didn’t spontaneously exist, or de-exist, or explode, or implode, or a long list of other things that could happen when the antichrist wasn’t giving his full attention. Maybe he could fix the old chameleon circuits. 

Either way, Satan, Morningstar, the adversary and the light bringer was defeated, by a young child who didn’t very much like that a man who’d never really spoken to him except for some dark whispers in his ear for all his life had the gall to think he could tell Adam what to do. Not much of a father in anyone’s book, really. In the aftermath of it all though he’d gotten a very old box and a letter from the post, which as a time traveler wasn’t as surprising to him as it was to most people. The box contained a book, wrapped in cloth, and the letter was simply addressed to “the man in the weird looking box”, and informed the doctor that the book was for him, and that he might find it useful in the case of “the blasted pudgy angel and broomstick of a demon buggering off to that welsh sounding place in the heavens”, which tickled a worrying memory in the recesses of his mind, but he left it be. The book was titled (after the T.A.R.D.I.S. had kindly translated the headache inducing old English) “The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnis Nutter, witch. Concerning the lord (and here was a blurred out name the doctor refused to read) and his companion to come, a miss Martha Jones. It was a fail safe, of sorts. A cryptic to do list in case Crowley & Aziraphale didn’t ever come back, because not everyone (or really anyone) in heaven or hell was very happy with NOT being at war, and somebody was going to have to make sure they didn’t take it out on the poor humans. 

The Doctor shoved the book in the deepest recesses of the T.A.R.D.I.S. with a glare. He didn’t like knowing the future, not his future anyway, and he wasn’t going to read that damned book if he didn’t absolutely have to. A miss Device had turned up at his door, though. Telling him that if he did, open it, and he needed any help translating it’s passages, she owned a nice little cottage in Tadfield that wasn’t too hard to find, if you looked, with her boyfriend, a Mr Newt. In any case he’d wished her a good day. She seemed interesting. Apparently his ‘aura’ burnt like M25, and froze like that one time she’d tried to make an ice cream sorbet with liquid nitrogen, whatever that meant. He’d given her his number, on the way out. In case she needed help. He didn’t really think she needed it. She seemed like the kind of woman who was perfectly happy settling her own troubles, thank you very much.

The stroll through Tadfield had been both scenic, and relaxing, and though was wasn't a particular fan of either, for long stretches of time, a warm feeling of _love_ settled in his chest that made him take the long way back home, replaying the name Martha Jones like an old tape. 


	4. Chapter 4

Stepping into Gallifrey was like stepping into the eye of the storm. It was a silence so complete you could hear your own heart beating, the rumbling of air in your lungs. There was no wind, on Gallifrey, yet there also was. There was no time, on Gallifrey, yet there also was. It had been years, since the doctor had left them there, frozen in a single moment, but it also hadn’t been any time at all. See the thing about time in regards to time travellers is that it's a bit like a substitute teacher in a primary school. Just because you're _supposed_ to respect them, doesn't mean you do. The whole incident of three men who were actually the same man meeting up to save the world had been quite the temporal mess, such that even though the tenth doctor hadn't actually saved his planet, yet (or the eleventh, for that matter) in _his_ memory, to the time-lords on Gallifrey, who were very much time locked and so were not exactly ‘lords’ of time anymore, tens of thousands of years had passed. The doctor was a long gone legend and the time war was an even longer gone nightmare. For the planet of Gallifrey itself though not a second had gone by. This was a planet where the laws of time and by extension, space, were rather... wibbly. 

“Wibbly?” Crowley exclaimed, his voice filled with exasperation as they stepped down on to the planets surface. Aziraphale nodded, a mixture of bumbling self doubt and hesitation but also curiosity and excitement. 

“Yes, wibbly. It’s like time can’t decide if it’s going or not. The wind and the grass and the weather and the like are frozen, but I can sense _people._ Real, living people. Going about doing people things.” Suddenly the angel blushed, apparently discovering a ‘people thing’ that he probably shouldn’t have. “And all the animals are fine, which is nice. I couldn’t imagine living on a planet where there weren’t any birds to listen to in the morning.” “Or snakes to talk to.” Crowley added, helpfully. Aziraphale nodded. He liked snakes. He thought they were rather cute, not that he’d tell Crowley. Cute was another four letter word that the demon wouldn’t like very much. “And there are these little pockets of space where plants are growing, but it’s... not natural. I think these people are making them, the pockets, not the plants, though I suppose they’re probably making, or growing, those too.” Crowley nodded, swaying more than the grass around him as he walked, which wasn’t difficult considering that the grass didn’t really move unless they touched it, but the point wasn’t _how_ Crowley was walking the point was that they were. They were walking, on a nice planet, and they weren’t dying, or fighting, or any other war-like thing. They were at peace. Well, as much peace as an angel and a demon could be at. “I wonder what the food will be like, on this planet.” He said, really just to brighten Aziraphale up, really. It worked, the angel lit up at the possibility of a whole new world of food to explore. 

Both men, who weren’t really men per se, made their way through the field, which was a beautiful shade of deep red, on their way to the nearest civilisation. The sky was burnt orange and there were two suns in the sky and if they'd happened to see a forest, they would have noted that the way the light hit the silver leaved trees made the forest look as if it was on fire. Anyhow it was sunset, and they could, but they would really rather not spend the night in the wilderness. It had been a while. 

“Are we theeeeere yet?” Complained Crowley, -despite knowing they were still half an hour out- for the fifth time that hour. Aziraphale decided (out of sheer annoyance) that a little miracle couldn’t hurt and shrunk the space between them and their destination with sigh. Within a few minutes a few small farming houses appeared on the horizon, and another few minutes later they met their first person. He had stared at Crowley in shock, probably because the demon wasn’t wearing his glasses, and told them that if they kept walking around in those clothes the high council would have them locked up somewhere very unpleasant. Looking like a visitor on a planet it’s not possible to enter or exit did not get you treated with smiles. It got you interrogated. At first neither of the two beings had understood what on earth (or they supposed Gallifrey now) the man was saying, but Crowley had sort of hypnotised the poor man into teaching them, though the man seemed perfectly respectful and probably would have done so, anyway, though for some reason he seemed to believe that crowley was a doctor, which was apparently a very well respected profession on this planet. They were both very smart, anyway, and this was an important matter. There may have also been some miracles involved, but the point was that two days later two very Gallifreyan looking angel and demon had made their way into Arcadia, the second city of Gallifrey. It gleamed under the sun, a wonder of art. 

“Looks like a snow globe.”

”shut up, Crowley.” It did look a bit like a snow globe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya everyone :) just wanted to say if anyone feels like the story is going too fast, or slow, or there’s something you’d like adding in, or I’ve made a mess of the original shows plot, or something doesn’t make sense, I’m more than happy to edit my chapters! Big thanks for all the comments and kudos, too.

Arcadia, and by extension Gallifrey, was a weird place, which was saying something, considering. Most people didn’t really mind the angel and demon after a few minor miracles turned their gaze, but whenever the ‘ancients’ turned up Crowley and Aziraphale had learnt to make themselves scarce. Nobody really bothered themselves with the bumbling little bookshop owner, despite assuming that his entire bookshop was a “T.A.R.D.I.S.”, whatever that was. Some sort of ancient but powerful relic. No, it wasn’t Aziraphale who was the problem, it was Crowley. Apparently he resembled a “Doctor”, from Gallifreyan history. Capital D, very important. The ancients in question were the men, women and children who had survived the time war, and they were the only ones left who could still regenerate, though their “lives” were limited. Aziraphale had sort of befriended an ancient, one time, and had gotten himself into such a tizzy when the man had stumbled into his bookshop almost  _dying_ , only to stumble back out again a few hours later with a brand new face and body and even a brand new soul. They didn't talk as much now, but that was largely because Rufus (his actual name was Rusfurlestidvepichu and just pronouncing it made Aziraphale want to cry) had gone from a short, bookish man, with infinite patience and an interest in exotic food, to a six foot tall blonde lady with the Gallifreyan equivalent of ADHD. This in itself wouldn't have reduced their friendship, of course. Rufus was still Rufus no matter the vessel, however the man's clothing hadn't quite regenerated with him, leading to a rather awkward moment wherein Crowley had returned to the shop only to see a very,  _very_ beautiful woman leaving in what looked suspiciously like his friend's clothes. The teasing had been intolerable and unending, and when Aziraphale finally got Crowley to stop Rufus would visit again, to talk about books and drink wine (her new taste palette had no love for tea), and the whole debacle would start all over again. Eventually Aziraphale had invited Crowley over to one of their 'book nights', in order to prove that nothing... sinful was occurring (just because he was no longer an agent of heaven, didn't mean he wasn't still an angel). The demon had sashayed into the room, only for the now time-lady to  _choke_ on her drink, spluttering for so long they'd thought she would regenerate all over again. The book night had gone terribly. It was like trying to have a party with your boss in the room, except the boss was his best friend. No matter how much Aziraphale tried to convince Rufus that Crowley  _wasn't_ the Doctor, and just had a passing resemblance to the man, things had never quite been the same. There was too much  _respect_ , and not enough friendship. 

"You know I have half a thought to give this 'Doctor' a piece of my mind!" Blurted Aziraphale, sat shoulder to shoulder with a glass of Gallifreyan wine between them, which was considerably stronger than human wine and had made the two of them quite dizzy. Crowley nodded, taking gulps from the bottle when Aziraphale wasn't looking.

"Leaving a entire planet frozen in time!  _His planet!_ I mean I can understand why everyone is a little cross with him." Actually, the Gallifreyans were VERY cross with him, considering that he'd left them all on a planet they couldn't escape, couldn't recover their regeneration energy, and generally couldn't be time-lords in. However he'd also saved all their lives, and done some things that no other creature in the universe could or would dare to do, so they were more than a little afraid of him, too. 

"Weee... We should go tell him off." Crowley slurred, more out of a desire to make trouble than in defence of his new planet. Personally he found the place more than a little stuffy and boring, but Aziraphale liked it here, and he could always nap when he was bored.

"Yes! Yes we should!" Aziraphale wouldn't admit it either, but he was bored too. Thoughts of what had happened to earth plagued him at night, and the people here knew absolutely nothing about good food. If Crowley hadn't been here with him, he would have probably left to go back to earth, go out with a bang and all that. Anyhow the suddenly excited angel pulled the drunken demon to his feet, holding him against his chest as they sobered up  _just_ enough to get their balance back. The shop was already closed, so the two of them simply left through the door and took off.

"Where do you think this Doctor will even be?" Crowley asked, soaring along on his back with as much languid laziness as he could muster. 

Aziraphale grimaced. "I have an idea." It was a terrible idea to go back to earth. Heaven would throw him in hellfire the second they sensed him, and he didn't want to even  _think_ about what they'd do to Crowley, but he'd heard so many stories about 'the Doctors pet planet.' Aziraphale couldn't miracle away an entire time lock, heaven would notice, but Gallifrey needed  _help_ , and he was damned if he wasn't going to give it. If he could just find this Doctor, then surely the man who created the damn thing could remove it too. Crowley looked at the steely resolve on the angel's face. It sharpened him, in a dangerous, beautiful way. Like the blade of a knife catching the sunlight in a way that made it difficult to look away.  

"Angel..." He murmured, noticing the faintest hint of indecision on Aziraphale's face, worry for Crowley clouding his thoughts. Only Aziraphale worried for him, like this. It was a novel feeling. "I trust you." He reassured him, wanting to take that fair hand in his own but deciding against it, for aerodynamic reasons, probably. Aziraphale smiled. "Thank you, dear." Both felt closer to each other, more  _themselves_ , than they had in months. 


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor's life was a playlist, the kind that only played the greatest hits. He didn't stick around for the boring bits: the mundane, tawdry  _flotsam_ of life that everyone else had to suffer through didn't apply to him. His T.A.R.D.I.S. was his house, the entire universe was his playground. Every dish through all of time was his to taste, every drink, every experience and every sight. It. Was all. His. 

He was disconnecting, he knew that. It wasn't good to think like that. When he felt like this people died, from his mistakes. So many mistakes. He missed Donna, he missed Rose. He missed Susan and Jamie and Romana and Ace and everyone who came before and after. He missed his planet, his gleaming city. The humble bed he rested in as a child, the toy soldier beside it. The endless sands and oceans and the sky on fire. 

"Tell you what though, ever since new, new new new n- well very new york, I've never had a problem waiting in traffic."  _Speaking of mundane._ Martha was brilliant. So smart, and questioning, hopeful. So brilliant. It was just...

His phone was going off, had been for a good minute he just hadn't been paying attention. Explained why Martha had stopped talking. he checked the ID, which was in Gallifreyan and had a LOT more details than the human version of the device. Earth, Anathema Device, 2019. How unexpected. He picked up. 

"Heeeello?" There was a short silence, on the other end, like she hadn't quite expected he would pick up, but Anathema wasn't the kind to be surprised for long. 

"Ah, yes, hello Doctor. Well... You know how you said to call? If there was trouble? Well there's trouble."

He was already tracking the call, plugging it into the T.A.R.D.I.S. console. "I'm on my way.' _Alon-sy._

Martha finished eating her sandwich, a little bit offended that he hadn't actually bothered to tell her where they were going, but more just excited to be going somewhere at all. There was never a boring day, not with the Doctor. 

"So where are we going Doctor? Or  _when_ are we going?" There were almost infinite possibilities,  _amazing_ possibilities. Stars and spaceships and ancient civilisations, events that only existed in history books, species that only dwelled in the wackyest Sci-fi.

"Little cottage in Tadfield. 2019." Or that. 

"...Right. Why are we going there?" The T.A.R.D.I.S. shook, very much like a car going over some interdimensional pot holes with no suspension and flat wheels and a very bad driver. She gripped the console like her life depended on it, which it probably did.

"A friend called. She needed help."

"Oh? A friend in Tadfield? Doesn't sound like you."

"Yes, well I say friend. More of an acquaintance. We helped stop the apocalypse last year! She's not too bad, for a witch."

"A witch?!" The word left a 'k' sounding lump in the back of her throat. After the Carrionites Martha didn't really want anything to do with Witches at all. The T.A.R.D.I.S. landed with a bang that almost had her on the floor before the Doctor could reply, not that he would have replied, because right now the entire ship was screaming at him that whatever he did, he should  ** _not_** go out of the doors. Whatever was out there was angry, and powerful, and had him surrounded. 

He went outside. 

Of course he did. How couldn't he? Besides if his T.A.R.D.I.S. didn't want him in Tadfield it wouldn't have landed in the first place, like a parent dropping their toddler off at school, which seemed like a bit of an insulting analogy to him now that he thought of it. Once his eyes adjusted to the light he could see what had him encircled: Angels. Angels AND demons. Both of them working together against what wasn't actually him but the people next to him, that wasn't actually Anathema and her husband (the doctor _may have_ been at the wedding) but actually two men, one short, pudgy, with hair that could only be described as  _cherubic_ and the other... the other was familiar. 

Well he should be. He was wearing _his_ face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeyyy. A little ill rn, which wont stop me writing but will inhibit my attempts to type properly, but I promise to fix this chapter whenever I feel better. Next one will be out either tomorrow or thursday xP


	7. Chapter 7

Martha gave a quick splutter, glancing between the two men as the Doctor fished into his pockets for the sonic. "But that's you!" The information transmitted by the sonic was unsurprising. One angel, one demon. The information transmitted by his eyes made his face pop into a vague "what?!" followed by an indignant glance at his fellow doctor (In training). "Do I really look like...  _that_?"

Ms. Jones looked at the demon's bright red hair, and all the  _very_ tight clothing that made her think that it might be best if she stayed in the T.A.R.D.I.S. for this particular adventure. Not to mention those eyes, serpentine and scathing. "Ah... no. Not really. Well... a bit."

The angel had noticed them first. The wind was so loud no one had even heard the T.A.R.D.I.S. land, and the old girl seemed to be pushing the perception filter to its limits, likely just for a dramatic moment. He couldn't tell if she got that from him or vice versa. You could tell the angel noticed them, though, because those sky blue eyes of his widened in disbelief, such that the Doctor could practically  _see_ the cogs turning inside his brain.  _Oh my, there's two of them._ The angel almost seemed to blush. After that his elbow dug it's way into his -handsome, if the Doctor did say himself- companions side, prompting the demon to turn and stare at the little blue box and its occupants with equal disbelief. After that it was a domino chain of hissing and shouting and weapons being drawn, all pointed at one rather (falsely) innocent looking time lord, who was actually trying very hard to think of a way out of this situation that didn't involve brimstone and smiting. The trick always seemed to be a mixture of confidence and idiocy. 

The Doctor swaggered to the centre of the encirclement, and Crowley sauntered to stand next to them. Aziraphale briefly stood in front of the two, looking them both up and down as he gaped and floundered like a particularly endearing blobfish before deciding to stand between them purely for symmetry. Martha never moved from the T.A.R.D.I.S., leaning against it half sassily half if-I-move-I'll-probably-fall-over-from-shock-ily but entirely ready to fight like someone who knew how to use a scalpel if the situation required. One human, one time-lord, one angel and one demon walk into a battlefield. Sounded like a bad joke to her. 

"Hello chaps!" The Doctor yapped, a bundle of jittery, restless energy dress in a suit and a trademark grin. Crowley gave a grin of his own, far more languid & laid back and relaxed but still familiar. He paired it with  _the_ most taunting, evil wave the doctor never thought possible. The poor angel caught in the middle just smiled apologetically and tried not to cry. It could be seen that the opponents weren't entirely sure who they wanted to punch first, but once they figured it out this was not going to be good. Crowley and the Doctor both leaned on Aziraphale's shoulders, the former draping himself on his friend like the spineless snake he not so secretly was and the latter like he was a conveniently placed brick wall to talk behind. He'd never felt so tense in his life.

"So..." Crowley began, noticing the angel's uncomfortable-ness and slowing his speak to a drawl just to draw it out, despite the danger they were in. "Don't suppose that's your T.A.R.D.I.S., is it?" 

The doctor gave him a look that combined distrust, excitement and curiosity in a femto second. "Run on three?"

Beelzebub wasn't an idiot. Not _too_ much of one anyway. "Haaand over the prisoners,  _Doctor."_ She buzzed, having quite enough experience with the man after their last encounter during the apocalypse that wasn't. "Yes, well, about that." The Doctor started, but that was everything Aziraphale needed, shouting " ** _THREE!_** " _Quite_ loudly and racing his way into the police box with all the grace of... well with absolutely no grace at all. The young doctor in training flattened herself against the doors to let him past and he threw himself onto one of the two (very unstable) chairs in the room with a visible exhale of relief. There was nothing quite so sobering as your boss threatening your life, joined by the entire amassed forced of heaven and hell hunting you down. And what for, really? So they'd rebelled a bit? It hadn't been  _them_ who stopped the apocalypse now had it? They'd just had a badly timed holiday!

Crowley and the Doctor followed him through within half a second, the time-lord's hands flying over the console in a panic before it took off with a jolt, likely a scorched pile of earth lying where they'd escaped  _just_ in time.

"The T.A.R.D.I.S. can hide us for a bit, but not long." He shouted, grabbing a hammer from  _somewhere_ as sparks started flying all over the place and the entire construct whirled around them. The angel and demon gave each other a tired glance, both internally wondering if this man had ever actually read a T.A.R.D.I.S. manual before and then proceeding to each take up a third of a console for themselves, their own fingers pulling levers and pressing buttons as the Doctor glared at them from the other side but begrudgingly noticed they knew that the were doing. Everything settled down after a moment, and they all took one step back as Martha plopped herself down on the floor with an exhausted groan. "What the bloody hell is happening?!"

"What's happening, young lady" Aziraphale spoke for the second time, his voice more decidedly (and he had, decided) British and polite, even chipper but with the kind of edge parents usually used on naughty children "Is that we are very cross!"  _No, angel, no..._ Crowley resisted the urge to cradle his face in his hands. 

"You what?!" 

 


	8. Chapter 8

There was a moment of silence, filled with embarrassment (from Crowley) and disbelief as everybody caught their bearings after the trouble they'd just escaped, but the further Aziraphale got (chronologically) away from the threat on his life the more his body remembered that warm, fuzzy feeling that drove him to earth in the first place, and the more his mind forgot everything else, like decency, and politeness.  

"Yes, cross!" lectured Aziraphale. "On behalf of your planet I'm very angry with you!"

The Doctor blinked, floundering again and his voice made a collection of random noises that the demon wouldn't admit were familiar. " _What?_ But Earth is fine! You were just there! Stopped the apocalypse, had some tea, nipped round to the moon to deal with a blood sucking grandma? No?" 

"No, not Earth! Though thanks for erm... stopping the end of times and all that. I realise we probably should've been about for that... anyway! not Earth! Gallifrey!"

That had been the wrong thing to say. If the loss of his companions, his friends, were scars that marred the Doctors soul, then the loss of Gallifrey was like a poison that destroyed it from the inside out: a giant, gaping, dying hole in him that darkened every one of his thoughts. The Doctor's face froze, not just in shock but in rage, his face twisted and angry.

"Gallifrey?" He spat. "Gallifrey burned." but something niggled at him. Four words in a book that he hadn't read since he laid eyes on it, locked in the back of his mind and his T.A.R.D.I.S..  _That Welsh sounding place..._

It was, however, the angel and demon's turn to be confused. No matter how singed orange the sky looked at night, Gallifrey was very much alive and well. The Doctor should know that, shouldn't he? It was him who saved it. 

"What are you on about?" Asked Crowley, really hoping they hadn't wasted time saving the  _wrong_ Doctor. As exciting as this all was he wasn't in the mood to risk his life on a mistake.

"It was wiped out. In the time war.  _I_ _destroyed it. I killed all of them."_ Crowley blinked, the area of hell assigned to planet destroyers was pretty spacious.

"Well yes." Bumbled Aziraphale, thinking he should probably be sober for such a somber conversation and moving the alcohol in his stomach to be a rather fine looking globule in space. "But then you brought it back. Well, sent it away, well... well you saved it, and that's what's important."

There was a laugh. A slightly unhinged, maybe-I'm-going-insane laugh that sort of just  _bubbled_ up. "I did what?" The Doctor barked. 

"You froze them. All of them, on Gallifrey. In a single moment in time. Like a painting they said."

"But that's, that's not possible" Even as he said that words those cogs in the Doctors head were turning,  _making_ it possible. "unless..."

Crowley realised it first. "Oh good job, angel. You've come to... what, punish? Admonish? A man for a crime he hasn't even committed yet.  _Bravo."_

"A crime? But I saved them! They're alive!" The joy hit him like a wave. "I didn't kill them!"

Aziraphale gave an awkward titter, his hands fidgeting to fix his clothing, which didn't really need fixing. "Yes well... I was  _getting_ to that." He fixed Crowley a glare. "It just seems that they're um. Stuck."

That was to be expected. They had the technology to escape, of course, but without a clue as to if the Daleks were still around they wouldn't leave. "Ah, they'll be fine, they'll get out in a few thousand years." He commented with forced levity. Aziraphale bristled. 

"Some of them don't  _have_ a thousand years!" Aziraphale remembered a story he'd read, about how a long time ago the Gallifreyans had been told their saviour was dying, fighting for a planet where his death was foretold. The time-lords couldn't access any new regeneration energy, so they'd given their own. It hadn't been an efficient process, and just giving him a  _few_ lives had sacrificed countless of theirs. No one died, at the time. But countless were gone too soon, afterwards. This was who they'd died for?

"Gallifrey is  _dying_ , Doctor. It's wasting away! Why won't you help them?!"

The Doctor paused, his face bitter and sad and a thousand other emotions all at the same time. It settled for mad, his teeth knitted and gnashing and bared.

"Because I dont know  _how_!" He paused. "But Agnus Nutter might."

 


	9. ‘Mistaken Identity’ One Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi 😅 I’m really sorry this isn’t a chapter, I’ve had three exams this week (one in a couple hours 😭🤞🏻) and I just haven’t had the feeling to write, but I did manage to do this one shot so I’m just adding it in here. It’s completely unrelated to the plot of the current fanfic just a little fluff I had the idea for. Sorry again I haven’t updated recently 😭

Angels and demons couldn’t really recognise each other, not on sight, not if they’re not looking, and Aziraphale didn’t need to use his powers to see Crowley, to recognise those snake eyes, those reddish curls, that silly little smile he didn’t give to anyone else. He’d made up his mind: he was going to walk up to the demon, _his_ demon , and tell him that he loved him. Not heaven, not God,  _ him _ . Because for a long time now Aziraphale had cared more for his supposed adversary than for any other creature on earth combined. 

 

— 

 

The Doctor had been tinkering with the T.A.R.D.I.S. all day, trying to fix some error that had developed during his shoddy excuse for piloting the beautiful thing. He’d gotten out his special (very steampunk) welding goggles and spent a good few hours with what any technician on earth, let alone Gallifrey, would be disgraced to call ‘specialised’ tools. The T.A.R.D.I.S. was parked on the endless sky of the Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia, emitting a psychic wave to gently dissuade any approaching passerby’s. He was just working on some of the external circuitry when he was surprised to find exactly that staring right at him. The man was rather middle-sized, even tall, but he held a sort of... aura of good natured-ness that made him seem shorter, and his hair was a rather cherubic white blonde. The clothing was a genuine antique and by the style of it over a hundred years old, but it was in pristine condition, and wasn’t really the sort on thing one went adventuring in, or wore if one was even remotely into adventuring in the first place: all buttons and comfort and uprightness, the kind of clothing one wore if they were going to lounge in their chair, reading a good book in front of the library. He certainly didn’t belong here, and he certainly shouldn’t have been looking at the Doctor like  _that_ . 

 

He was smiling, in a breathtakingly open and loving and compassionate way, his steps hurried and slightly anxious and the closer he got the wider he grinned. The doctor hadn’t moved, yet, still wearing his goggles and more than a little bit confused. Then the man was in front of him, all that love confronting the doctor in undulating, psychic waves, that crescendoed in a devastatingly emotional, however also one way, kiss. 

 

—

 

After a few seconds Aziraphale realised that Crowley was very, very confused, and he fumbled, doubting himself now that he was mid moment and a lot more susceptible to the ramblings of his own brain. After ten seconds, Aziraphale had realised that Crowley wasn’t Crowley. 

 

The hair should have been a give away, all brown and untamed and very much not-Crowley, but it’d been the emotions that had tipped him off: more guilt, anger, shame, all of it, than he’d ever thought possible. At first he had thought something had happened, that that was why Crowley had just stood there, stock still, not responding at all to what the angel had thought to be a momentous occasion, but then he’d felt the unfamiliarity and he’d known: whoever this was it wasn’t his demon. It was his fault, really. Seeing his friends face but not looking to make sure it was really him underneath. Aziraphale pulled away as quickly as he’d pushed forward, leaving the not-Crowley to flounder in confusion. 

 

“Yes um... sorry about that. Right face, wrong Crowley... ah I mean hum- person! Person! Like me! Goodbye!” And then the angel was gone, deciding that maybe this was a sign to go back to his bookshop and make a cup of tea and remember not to meddle in matters he didn’t yet understand. 

 

—

 

A minute after the strange man had left the Doctor had dropped his mallet on his foot, waking him up from a possible lifetime of gaping like a broken fish. Holding on to the appendage as he hopped around and shouted in pain apparently drew the attention of the second occupant of his ship, who sauntered out with a sheepish smile, draping himself across the T.A.R.D.I.S. door. 

 

“Are you okay? Look... ah, I’m really sorry about your ship, but I think those... Dalek’s did you call them? Mistook me for you anyway, so we’re... no debts owed right?” He gave the hopping time lord an amused glance. “And I um... I should be getting off, anyway. People to see, lunches to arrange.” The Doctor nodded, no longer jumping about but still wincing with the occasional “ooh” and “ah” for dramatic effect. He glanced at the face of his new acquaintance, then he thought of his own present face. The two flashed side by side next to each other until they overlapped and then he thought about the small, bookish man who came over earlier (who actually had a terrifying edge to his psyche that the Doctor thought was left well enough alone) and his “right face, wrong person” comment that had had him sprinting away. No, not sprinting... how had he left? It had seemed like one moment he was there and the next he wasn’t. 

 

“What did you say your name was?” The Doctor asked his red-headed doppelgänger, suddenly getting an inkling of what exactly was going on. 

 

“Crowley, and you?”

 

“I’m the Doctor. I don’t suppose you know a bookish man? About yay high?” He gestured to what was roughly an inch below his own scalp, which was considerably taller than he expected his hand to be until it was actually in place. “Little bit awkward?” The last one sparked an light of recognition. 

 

“I don’t suppose you’d have described him as  angelic,  would you?” And the Doctor thought about that hair, and the ancient clothes, and the sheer kindness that came off of him in waves. 

 

“Yes! Angelic! Very accurate.” Crowley blinked. 

 

“Oh that’s just Aziraphale, what did he want?”

 

_Ah_.  The doctor was floundering again. “Well, you see...”

 

—

 

Aziraphale had replaced the tea with wine, and his hands were shaking not from drunken-ness but from fear. What if heaven had seen him? Worse, what if that had actually been Crowley! The demon could have broken him, shattered him into pieces with a single word. It was just so stupid and idiotic and reckless and- 

 

There was a  whooshing,  sound, coming from somewhere, and a sharp wind appeared in his previously still little abode. Papers flew and books thwicked open, their pages turning at a panic inducing speed that required more than a few miracles to keep them all together. A big, blue box appeared in the middle of his back room, almost scraping the ceiling and he rushing about trying to tidy up, his arms full of tomes, and then Crowley jumped out, smiling, pulling the angel into his arm and he held him in a kiss just as intense as the one Aziraphale intended earlier, except this time the angel dropped his books to the side and returned it, the ship dematerialising as they stood there, the centre of chaos, oblivious to it all as they revelled in that feeling of ancient, all encompassing, compassionate love. Crowley pulled away, looking his angel in the eye, searching for something before cracking a grin. “This is the right person, right?” And Aziraphale punched him in the arm. “Shut up, Crowley.” He muttered, pulling the demon into a long kiss that at some point made its way to the couch, and didn’t end until a few customers absolutely refused to take a muffled “go away!” For an answer, but most definitely started up again straight afterwards. 

 

“As you wish, Angel.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to explain the gallifrey that exists in this fanfiction, since I'm only just figuring it out myself. In hell bent we learn that gallifrey actually exists outside of the universe, at the end of time. Instead of the time lords summoning 13 in Hell Bent via the confession dial, this gallifrey is set afterwards, where Rassilon is long gone and the dry lands aren't dry anymore, but fertile and beautiful. Essentially it's a Gallifrey that doesn't entirely remember it's past, where all (or at least most) of the high ranking time-lords are gone, along with a lot of their technology. They're not time-locked any more but they can't leave, either. Sorry if I've made a mistake :( it gives me a headache trying to sort it all out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaAaaack! ^__^ One more exam to go on thursday and then I think I'm gonna bingewatch supernatural to get my other fic on the way (SO. MANY. EPISODES. 0-0). Big thanks as ever for the kudos, comments and support! Oh and I remember a certain someone mentioning the Doctor's inevitable ginger envy XD. I knew I was gonna but it in but completely forgot so thank you for the reminder Jeanniebird :) Now then, let's get this party started!

The angel choked on the air that didn't really  _need_ to be in his lungs, but suddenly was, and in startling amount. The sound caught the attention of everybody in the room and Crowley  _knew_ that look: it was the guilt look. The 'hand in the cookie jar' expression Aziraphale used when he knew he'd done something he shouldn't have, usually something non-angelic. 

"Something to share with the class, angel?" the Doctor stayed silent, still not 100% sure who exactly his new allies were, and if they could be trusted. People didn't run away to the stars for no reason. He should know.

"NO! Well... um yes. Maybe. A little." The angel guiltily willed a old, tattered book into his hands that read "The nice and accurate prophecies of Agnes Nutter, witch", his hands shaking a little in fear of his friends response. God, his  _friend._ He hadn't been willing to admit it before, not even on that bandstand when he'd agreed to run, not even when they lived on gallifrey, detached from the polarity of it all, but for the heavens if he didn't feel it now. The idea of Crowley feeling betrayed by him sent rumblings of pain through not just his corporeal form, but also his essence and grace itself. If Crowley had been looking he would have seen Aziraphale's aura ripple with splashes of nausea and misery and deep, dreading fear, and suddenly it all just exploded out. 

"I'm so sorry, Crowley! I-I just thought that, that if I could get a message to the right people, if I could just  _tell them_ what was happening they'd understand! I didn't realise..."  _I didn't realise what a sorry excuse for an angel I'd become. That I wasn't supposed to be soft, and love earth. I was supposed to raze it to the ground. I was supposed to raise **you**_ _to the ground, and I couldn't do that. I could NEVER do that._ There was something hard and cold and violent in Crowley's form, tensed up and clenched and shaking in a way that made Aziraphale think he was going to just turn around and miracle himself away, somewhere that even the angel couldn't find him, but then he ripped his glasses off and those eyes of his, those beautiful, beautiful eyes were full of love. Angry love, offended love, but love, and so Aziraphale knew they'd be okay.

"You knew where the boy was?" Aziraphale nodded, sheepishly but also sorrily. "The whole time?"

"No! Just after we hit that poor girl with the bike!" Crowley thought back to how strangely had acted back then, scurrying off with that book and not talking to him for _days._ He'd been tempted to find and burn the thing out of spite. 

The Doctor tried to follow the conversation as best he could, which wasn't easy. From what he gathered though at least one of the duo knew what he was talking about, which was better than he expected. The two looked like they were going to get into those petty squabbles he'd often seen people on earth get into, where no-one was really mad at the other but at least felt like he should be, so he took the moment to silently slip away, manoeuvring his way around the T.A.R.D.I.S. (which largely encompassed him pretending he knew where he was going and the ship manoeuvring itself around _him_ ) towards the library, where hidden between a souffle cookbook and a novel called 'Summer falls' (He had no clue how either came into being, since the T.A.R.D.I.S. seemed to stop its books largely on a whim, from all over the universe) was his own book of prophesies, also by one Agnes Nutter, witch. 

"So how do we find which prophesy is the right one?" Asked Crowley, making the Doctor jump. He hadn't heard a thing, not a single sound. One moment the angel and demon hadn't been  there and the next they had, which the Doctor found disconcerting. At least his ship had the decency to make a noise, even if that was because he wasn't piloting it properly, not that he'd admit it. The demon's question was a good one, and the time lord's brain just fritzed. It was a massive book, and even though he technically had all the time in the world (or at least an awful lot of it) that didn't mean he wanted to spend days, weeks, months or even years translating every last prophesy, supposing their meaning and hoping he'll be able to recognise the right prophesy when he finds it. Aziraphale tried to remember his own experiences with the book. He'd opened the book to a random page but the first thing he read had been directed to him, so maybe they just needed to do the same and Agnes Nutter would just make sure she wrote it in the same way. It was faith, in a way, and Aziraphale had always been rather good at that. "Just pick a page, I suppose." 

He picked a page.

"The end of the universe" Five words, nothing else. Nothing at all and yet that was all it took to spark a thought, just a thought, in the Doctor's mind, but thing about thoughts is that they cascade, chains of the little things stringing together to form an idea, that string together again to form a plan. Not a  _good_ plan, but a plan all the same. 

"But that's brilliant!" The time-lord shouted, his face animate as he decided that one day, he and Agnes Nutter, witch were going to have a very good and very long conversation indeed. Whilst everyone else present may believe that 'magic' was the cause of her powers he considered something else. Madness? Prophetic abilities throughout all time and space? Seemed familiar indeed. 

Aziraphale was already at the time-lords elbow, gazing at him expectantly as the man jumped about, absent-mindedly collecting his tools. Getting to the end of the universe wouldn't be difficult, neither would finding Gallifrey if his guess was right, but actually  _saving_ it would be a pain in the behind. 

""What is?"" Chorused both angel and demon in unison, one grouchily annoyed at being out of the loop and the other enthusiastic and anticipatory towards finally being able to save what was his second... or was it third? Home. 

"The end of the universe! The end of... everything, really. See, the time lords escape their pocket universe, but they're still not safe, so instead they go somewhere where there isn't even anybody left to find them, the end of all things." The idea of the end of 'all things' didn't seem that great to Aziraphale, but he stayed quiet. "But in a few years that great crunch is still gonna happen, and they don't have the ability to escape."  _Everything dies, in the end_. Didn't mean it couldn't just happen a little later than expected.

All three of them were smart enough to know that some things couldn't, and usually shouldn't be stopped. They were also  stupid enough to think that inviolable rules  _could_ however be bent beyond recognition, except maybe Aziraphale, who pretended not to know this in favour of a holier than thou attitude and an extreme desire  _not_ to fall. However at this moment it was the angel of the east gate, not-bearer of the flaming sword that knew exactly how to save Gallifrey, and he smiled. "I know just what to do!"  _Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing_. Crowley thought. 

A few minutes later Martha, the Doctor, Crowley and Aziraphale all shuffled out of the T.A.R.D.I.S. onto familiar soil, the time-lord's eyes more than a little vague as he looked at what was once his home, what  _could be_ his home again.  _Nah, not for me, really._ In all actuality the plan was very simple. It'd take a miracle to pull Gallifrey backwards through time, to disguise it from anyone who'd attack it and keep it safe, and a miracle was exactly the kind of thing Aziraphale could do, just not on his own. The angel was just a principality, and he didn't have the juice, but Crowley did. 

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, bracing themselves. This was going to be one hel-heav- this was going to be a miracle to end all miracles, transporting an entire planet. They locked hands, the heavenly grace and demonic energy flowing between them into something that wasn't snowy white, or black and sin, just an earthly, silvery grey, and then suddenly, to anybody in range to see it, Gallifrey was gone. No flash of light, just gone. On Gallifrey there was no rumble, the sky didn't crack and the sea's didn't boil, there was just a  _slight_ shift in the stars. To let them know it'd all gone right.The two were still holding hands, gazing up at the night sky like they were about to go to war with it, and then Martha coughed and Aziraphale jumped away fast enough to be mistaken for a cat having sighted a dog, or a wolf, only to immediately fall over and pass out on the grassy floor. 

Crowley stared at the pale lump on the ground with disdain. " _Satan,_ he's so weak, isn't he? I mean what kind of soldier of heaven pas-" And then he was gone too, a black, charcoal mess, his red hair blended into the foliage. 

"Now what I don't get." The Doctor mumbled, dragging his look alike into the T.A.R.D.I.S. with a huff. "Is why he gets to be ginger and I don't!" He dropped Crowley onto the floor with more than a little spite, ignoring the soft thud as Martha came with the angel in tow. "You can always dye it?" She commented, but the time lord just shook him had, looking sadly at that hair. "It wouldn't be the same..." 

"What I don't get Doctor, is how the hell does he look like you?" Both of them looked at that face, identical to his own, and the Doctor realised he had absolutely  _no_ clue. 

"Well, they say that everyone has six dopplegangers on earth alone! Can't be that surprising that I have one in the whole universe, right? Besides, with how long he's lived I think it might be the other way round. I probably saw him on earth somewhere and the face just... stuck."

"So you can do that, then? Just pick a face you like?"

"Nah, well... a little. Sometimes, maybe."

Crowley mumbled something, evidently waking up, but not before the Doctor had time to run to the kitchen for a glass of water to dump on his head, eliciting a panicked jolt that brought an honest smile to his face. Ms. Jones chose to look the other way, it was her dad's birthday soon and she had better things to concern herself with than the childish-ness of a just under 1000 year old idiot.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been left unfinished for so long :( I had a lot going on with family and stuff, and THEN my laptop charger died with a whimper and a fizzle. This will be the final chapter of this fic for all official purposes, in that I'm gonna move onto my next fic (Lost and Found). I might come back to it and add some chapters (the doc in Tadfield, A&C on Gallifrey) but that wont be for ages so don't place your bets XD. Right! To the chapter!

There was a small, cluttered, grand little bookshop that one day had just appeared in the village of Tadfield, seemingly overnight. When anybody in Tadfield was actually asked where the bookshop came from they would blink, and show a remarkable amount of disinterest for something so peculiar. Everyone seemed to believe that it had been there forever and that they just hadn't noticed it, or that it'd been built recently, or that a Mr. Fell had come by and bought the place and done a little redecorating. The phenomena was quite similar to that of the miraculously appearing red planet, that nobody actually had any records of existing previously, but all of a sudden apparently did, and most just believed that they'd forgotten to make a note of it. The bookshop was located in the middle of an average street, just off from the centre of town. It wasn't out of the way, and it wasn't difficult to reach, but it was just inconspicuous enough to subtly avoid most people's notice. If anyone did enter they'd usually leave again rather quickly, whether it be from the seemingly complete lack of any sorting order to the books (The owner had apparently sorted them by how much he liked them, and their positions would change every week depending on his mood), Mr.Fells own unwelcoming glares or the frighteningly large snake that was occasionally seen to roam free, lazing about on bookshelves and tables and occasionally coiled around the shop owner himself whilst he sat around, drinking tea or reading or just talking to what looked like thin air. This wasn't even mentioning the appalling (and seemingly random) opening hours. In fact the only recurring visitors to A.Z.Fell & Co. were that of a Mr. and Mrs. Pulsifer, as well as a group of young children cautiously referred to as the 'Them' and a pair of what the town assumed to be twins. They had the same height, same build and face, but apart from that even a blind woman could tell them apart. Fire and ice, people tended to say. Or oil and water, because the two always tended to argue whenever they got into talking distance.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Aziraphale and Crowley sat together on the comfy old couch in the back room, a bottle of gallifreyan wine between them and another, half empty one on the floor.

"We were never gonna stay on Gallifrey, were we, Angel?" Aziraphale smiled, thinking of that bone gnawing boredom he'd felt, the guilt. He'd been so thankful when he learnt the Doctor had saved the universe in their stead, but it didn't change the fact that he'd left. Earth was his home, it always had been and it always would be, it'd just taken being away from it to realise that. 

"No, dear."

"The food was terrible."

"It wasn't even food! Thinking they can just shove a bunch of flavours in a little cube and call it a meal. No taste!"

"Wine's good though." 

"Brilliant."

The was a minute of silence, where Crowley lay his head on his friend's shoulder and just revelled in the feeling of being home, on earth. Where the air tasted  _just right_. 

"I've missed this." The angel mumbled an affirmative.

"Next time, we don't run." 

"Crowley, I promise you. We will never run. Never again." They'd fight. Together. Whether it be heaven or hell or anything else. They'd fight it together. To protect their home, to protect each other. To protect those silent moments together on the couch, when they had six thousand years of wonder to talk about, but were just content to  _be_ with the other.

"Never again." 

And then the bell chimed, and the two could tell from the worrisome clangs and shouts that the Them had arrived, just in time for what Crowley endearingly liked to call 'true history', which was a little story-telling adventure that had started with a school project and then had never really ended.

"So." A now-sober Crowley grinned. "Who wants to hear about my adventures with Blackbeard?" The children raised their hands, and the angel, sat in his little armchair against the wall, looked lovingly at the scene in front of him: Crowley, his demon, scaring the living daylights out of Adam and the gang with his tales of bloody, gory, surprising events. 

_His_ demon. The secret partner of A.Z.Fell & Co. Aziraphale felt for the key in his pocket. It was symbolic, really. Neither of them needed keys, but then neither did they need sushi, or crepes, or wine. He clenched the cool, jagged piece of metal so hard into his fist that if he was human, he would have bled, and waited for Crowley to finish his story. He wondered where Crowley's plants should go, whether he should miracle another floor or just have it built. Because of course Crowley would say yes. Why shouldn't he?  _oh dear, what if he said no? What if he decides to stop coming round? What if the bookshop is bad for his plants! Oh dear oh no... what if-_

"So yes, really Elizabeth was a much better pirate than her brother, and a much better kisser, but don't tell him I said that! Angel? Are you okay?" Aziraphale was sat rigidly in his seat, staring animatedly at a brick wall when suddenly he lurched upwards, almost releasing his wings as he opened his mouth, his tongue feeling simultaneously inflating and like lead. 

"Crowley will you marr- will you move in with me?" His mind was so jumbled he almost didn't get the words out right, but the moment he did and he saw that smile on his demon's face he knew it was going to be okay. 

"Heaven be damned?"

"Yes. Hell, too?"

"Naturally, yeah."

Aziraphale took the key out of his pocket, almost forcing it into Crowley's hand before he could change his mind. The demon smiled, wondering if the angel even noticed that he hadn't actually been to his apartment in over a week. 

"Dinner at the Ritz?" 

Aziraphale smiled. "Dinner. At the Ritz." 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      


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